


How Do I Say Your Name?

by CopperCable



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 14:13:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13683327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperCable/pseuds/CopperCable
Summary: Cybal, an Exo Hunter, has always had a problem with their voice, mainly that they don’t have one. And there’s no pre-recorded voice message for his new boyfriend’s name…





	How Do I Say Your Name?

The crowd at the Titan’s Mark was starting to grow, and more noises were slowly adding to the din of the patrons and the television screens. The neon lights cast everyone in hues of purple and orange and blue, and the mood was light and jovial among everyone there. But the one thing that every patron could notice immediately was that, despite being in a Titan bar, there was one Exo sitting at the bar that was very clearly not a Titan.

It wasn’t unusual for a Titan to bring a Hunter or a Warlock friend to the Titan’s Mark, but most of the time they had the decency to leave their capes and cloaks at home, and mix in with the crowd. But this Exo was special for a few reasons: one was the scarf that they wore around their neck, trailing down their back like a makeshift cape. Another was the sound of their voice, not only mechanical but always changing from sentence to sentence, and sometimes word to word. And finally, the strangest thing about them was the Titan enjoying their company.

Gingham-20, dressed in his signature outfit that took after his namesake, was sitting next to the Hunter and chuckling every time the other Exo made a high whizzing noise, which everybody came to suspect was a loud giggle. He downed another tumbler of whiskey while his guest wrapped their hands around their drink, and giggles once more. Not many people in the bar could truly make out what the Hunter was saying, but they had their suspicions that they were already drunk, despite having had only two shots of whiskey in the last hour.

All of a sudden, Gingham pushed himself off of the bar stool and away from the bar, his robotic arms flexing automatically to compensate for the movements. You could never really tell with Exos if they were trying to show off, or if it was in their programming and they don’t even know that they’re doing it. Gingham leaned into the Hunter’s ear and whispered something that nobody else could hear. The Hunter quickly leaned away and turned to face the Titan, then nodded rapidly without making a noise. Gingham chuckled once more, then turned to face the other way and got on to one knee. The Hunter slowly draped themself on to the Titan’s back and wrapped their arms around his neck to hold on. The Titan made a remark to the bartender, who laughed and shook his head, as they made their way out of the door. The Hunter left with a mechanical “byeeeeeeee~” and waved at the bartender before disappearing through the doors.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe that this is you after a couple of drinks,” said Gingham, carrying Cybal-3 through the market district of the Tower. He had invited the small Hunter to join him at the bar to get to know one another a bit better, though their conversations ended up being mostly about jokes they had heard, and sharing stories from the field.

Cybal responded in his unique way, with several different recorded voices all cut together to make a sentence, “Whiskey… is not my… forte.” Normally there would be a short, high-pitched noise between each voice recording, but in his inebriated state, that sound was replaced by lower static, possibly the equivalent of slurring his words. He had learned quite a bit about the Titan tonight, which was rather comforting after their previous “rendezvous” before tonight. But he realised that he had a problem as soon as he heard the Titan’s full name.

Cybal put it out of his mind for the moment, and instead waved shyly at the Guardians and refugees they passed, and giggling at their strange looks at him. He always enjoyed being carried around the Tower, and not just because he was still rather young in terms of maturity. Sometimes it was just fun to be a bit different from everyone else, and this way he got to feel just a little bit high and mighty. Sometimes passers-by would smile at him, and sometimes they would look incredulously at him. The best reactions were from the people that almost looked jealous.

Before long, they had found their way to the front door of an apartment complex. Gingham rummaged in his pocket for the key, while Cybal snuggled into his back. It would have been an uncomfortable sensation had it not been for the scarf and shirt to soften the contact. The Titan let out a lone chuckle, followed by a deep, contented sigh.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice deep and quiet, “I’ve met a lot of Guardians in my time, but none as interesting as you, Cyb.” He unlocked the door to the apartments and made his way through, careful to duck to avoid hitting Cybal’s head on the door frame. He made his way up the flights of stairs to the second floor, opened the door to his apartment, and remarked just before entering, “I’m glad that I met you.”

The inside of his apartment was fairly neat, but also rather cramped. A bookshelf filled from top to bottom sat next to a kitchen counter, and an armchair faced the bed, with a helmet and a belt resting on the cushion. The bed itself was the messiest part of the room, and only because the cover had been thrown towards the wall at some stage and hadn’t been put back. It was a bit cooler in here than it had been outside, and Cybal noticed immediately as he realised just how much hotter his body was running with the alcohol in his system.

Gingham made his way into the apartment and went to the bed, turned as he approached and lowered himself down again. Cybal let go and fell backwards on to the bed, laughing on his high whizzing way again, without the help of a pre-recorded voice. He lied there and looked at the ceiling while his host closed the door and made his way around the apartment. He had only been with Gingham for a few weeks now, but they had already been some of the most fun times he had had since the Traveler revived him.

Gingham returned to the bed with a glass of cold water, and he told Cybal to have some. “It won’t sober you up straight away, but it’ll help in the morning.” Cybal nodded and took a sip. But he couldn’t take his eyes off of Gingham, and he spilled some of the drink down his front. “Oh dear,” Gingham cooed, "you might want to take that off.”

Cybal snorted and replied, “it’s fine… it’s only water.” Gingham cocked an eyebrow at him, and his metal lips stretched up slightly into a smile. Realisation hit Cybal harder than the first whiskey had, as he suddenly saw Gingham’s angle. “Ohhhhhhhh.“ He chuckled along with the Titan, then continued in a sultry tone, “maybe you’re right.” He reached up to pull his scarf away first, but Gingham’s hand shot up to grab his wrist.

“Not that part,” he said commandingly. “Leave that on.” Cybal felt a rush through his body, and his thoughts were starting to grow flustered. He felt Gingham’s hand lower his wrist to his shirt, and he slipped it off with both hands, tossing it to the side without paying attention. He wanted to look into Gingham’s eyes, but as he figured out exactly what position he was in, it was hard to focus.

Gingham took control from there, lifting the hem of Cybal’s shirt up and over his head. It was a struggle to get it off without messing up the scarf, but it wasn’t a long process. Suddenly Cybal was sitting on the bed with no shirt on and his scarf trailing down his metal back. Gingham traced a finger down the front of his chassis, over his chest and his ribs. Cybal gasped, though it wasn’t the sound one would expect from a Human or an Awoken. It was the sudden quickening of a motor, the whoosh of processors understanding what had happened. It was so mechanical, but so natural at the same time.

Gingham moved in close to Cybal, their foreheads pressed together in an affectionate way. “I think you’d best take my shirt of next,” he murmured, reaching around Cybal’s back and slowly stroking him. He trailed the space under the scarf while Cybal slowly unbuttoned his shirt, taking a few chances to feel the Titan’s body underneath. He was built for military performance, which meant that beneath the clothes was an excellent physique and soft, firm musculature. Since the Titan was also quite taller than the Hunter, Cybal had an excellent view right now, too.

As he reached the final button, he hesitated. “Wait,” he barked, and Gingham froze. He pulled back and looked down at Cybal, a look of concern in his eyes, asking him what was wrong without words. “Your name…” Cybal said, lowering his head and his voice. “There is no… word… I… can’t say…” He trailed off, and did his best not to sob at a time like this.

Gingham took his hands in his own and lifted them up. He held Cybal’s hands against his uncovered chest, then pressed one of his hands lightly against Cybal’s chest. Cybal looked between the two of them, and back up into Gingham’s indigo eyes. He smiled, and said, “don’t worry, Cybal. There’s plenty of ways around that, believe me.” Cybal didn’t look convinced, so Gingham continued. “In fact, after tonight, you can call me all sorts of things. Like, your boyfriend-“ Cybal gasped again, and his eyes widened. Gingham couldn’t help but chuckle, but he had more to say.

“You like that, I can certainly tell. But you can call me your boyfriend, or sweetheart, or darling. How does that sound?” Cybal threw himself into the Titan’s chest and wrapped his arms around him tightly, hugging him tightly. Gingham hugged Cybal as well, and they held each other for a while, not saying anything, not wanting to spoil the moment.

Finally, Cybal pulled himself away and looked back up at his boyfriend. Suddenly everything about him seemed more focused, as if he could see every colour in better detail. Every scrape on his metal chassis and every groove on his rubber skin was suddenly so clear that Cybal wasn’t sure that they had been there before. He studied Gingham for another moment, then looked up again and smiled. “My boyfriend,” he said, beaming.

But Gingham put a finger to Cybal’s robotic lips to hush him. “That’s after tonight,” he remarked, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone. Cybal was confused for a moment, but he didn’t have much time to think it over: Gingham’s hands were holding his once more, and now he was undoing the final button of Gingham’s shirt.

As soon as the button came loose, Gingham’s hands were on his back and behind his head, and he was spun around in a flash. The mattress raced up to meet him, but Gingham’s hands absorbed most of the impact. Cybal lied there with his arms above him and Gingham arched on top of him, pressing their crotches together and making a noise that could only be describe as a growl. He leaned in once more to Cybal’s ear and whispered, “tonight, you call me “Sir”. Understood?”

Heat rushed through his body in an instant, and any thoughts that he had had a moment ago were suddenly becoming very foggy as new sensations took their place. He could feel himself growing very tight in his pants, but he could feel Gingham even harder against him. The whirring in his chest grew louder as Gingham started to run his fingers down his sides. Cybal smiled, already punch-drunk on sex before it had started. “Yes, sir!”


End file.
